Congratulations, Mon Cheri
by super manako sohma
Summary: He stared blankly across the crowd, looking for a certain maroon-clad boy. He growled in annoyance as he took a nice deep drag of his cigarette; if he had to wait all night for Gregory there would be hell to pay. This is a grad fic.


Mana here. Late fic is late. I meant to post it June 11, the day after my graduation but…I simply didn't have any motivation in finishing it XD No more school for three months, you'd think I'd be writing fic after fic after fic right now. No, I've just been lazy, catching up on sleep. Or at least trying to hibernate because once college starts it's gonna be one _hell_ of a rude awakening…especially considering my major XP

Yes well…this fic is a graduation present from me to the Class of 2009, regardless of graduating high school, middle school, or college =) or any international reader here who's graduating.

On a side note, to any Iranian oppositionists or any oppositionist supporters who may be reading this…VIVE LA RESISTANCE!!! That election was so GODDAMN UNJUST and I hope you guys will win this battle. Ok I'm hyper now XD I love government corruption and people fighting against that corruption for reforms and stuff.

Congratulations, Mon Cheri

Christophe stood outside the stadium entrance, sporting pressed black slacks and a neat dark green polo shirt. His arms were folded to his chest, and a cigarette hung loosely from his mouth as he tried his best to look apathetic. How he was able to find a desolate spot amongst the crowd was beyond him, not that he was complaining.

Schoolboys (or rather, _former _schoolboys) in maroon robes and matching caps swarmed the area, underneath the large banner that read "Congratulations Yardale Boys' Preparatory Class of 2009" in gold stitching. Most of them right now were taking photos with their families. Some of them were laughing boisterously upon graduating while some were crying in each others arms. Some of them were being embraced by their girlfriends from the neighboring girls' school. But either way, it was all a form of celebration. Then one boy in particular had just jumped into the arms of another boy, knocking into Christophe.

"Watch yourself, beetch!" Christophe growled, dropping his cigarette.

He did not appear to have heard him, but that's ok. The Mole drowned out his anger by taking another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it promptly.

He stared blankly across the crowd, looking for a certain maroon-clad boy. They all looked identical, it was impossible to tell them apart. He growled in annoyance as he took a nice deep drag of his cigarette; if he had to wait all night for Gregory there will be hell to pay. He knew just how charismatic and social the blonde was, he was probably talking to every single boy, teacher or parent who came across him.

Then suddenly a pair of white arms wrapped forcefully around the Frenchman in a binding hug. Christophe nearly swallowed his cigarette in shock but then recognized the familiar scent of vanilla and confectionaries.

"A bit jumpy, aren't we?" Gregory giggled seductively into his ear.

He held back a shiver and turned around to face the blonde. He was dressed sophisticatedly in a silver and black silk shirt with a black vest and tie. His sleeves however were unbuttoned at the cuffs and rolled up to his elbows and his tie was slightly undone. He had on a flushed expression, one of pure cheerfulness and excitement as he clutched the maroon case containing his diploma.

Christophe raised an eyebrow, spitting his second cigarette to the floor and snuffing it out with his shoe.

"Why are you not dressed like ze ozzers?" He asked the blonde.

"I already returned the robes," Gregory said dismissively, "I didn't pay for them and I don't see any reason to keep them."

"Oh. I kind of wanted to see you in zem before you returned zem."

"You already did, love. Or did you not watch the ceremony?"

"I did, I did, but…" Christophe ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily.

Ah, screw it.

"Oi, Gregory!" A robe-clad young man approached the blonde and took him in a tackle-hug. "That was a brilliant speech man! Even I started crying."

"Thanks, Piers," Gregory smiled, returning the hug with less enthusiasm, "and congratulations."

"You too! I'm really gonna miss you!"

He gave Gregory a rough pat on the shoulder and smiled in acknowledgement at Christophe. However, that smile faded when he realized Christophe returned it with a heavy glare, and he disappeared off quickly into the rest of the celebration.

"Ugh, let's get out of here, Christophe," Gregory said, grabbing the Frenchman's arm forcefully and dragging him towards the exit, "I don't think I want to deal with anymore attention tonight."

The night air was crisp and cool in the parking lot of the stadium. The full moon shone bright in the sky, but only a few stars were visible. It was still a perfect summer night. But regardless of that the two slipped into Christophe's car quickly; Christophe seemed to be in haste and Gregory as well.

The drive home was particularly pleasant; Gregory was chatting away about the ceremony, about various classmates and teachers, none which Christophe really cared about. But Christophe didn't complain. He nodded at appropriate times and even laughed a little.

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, aren't you?" Gregory said in a sharp tone.

"Ehhh," Christophe trailed, "I'm listening…"

Gregory leaned his head on Christophe's left shoulder as he let out a disgruntled sigh. A smile came across the mercenary's lips at the contact, but Gregory didn't see.

"Still Christophe," he said, "it would have been nice to have you walk with me tonight. As part of the graduating class."

Christophe sighed heavily. This was obviously a repetitive topic.

"As I said before, _mon cher_, I was not able to balance my studies wiz my job and ze most eemportant priority to me was ze job."

Gregory elbowed him in the ribs.

"Liar! You were expelled from Sacred Heart! Don't try to dress it up by discussing you 'priorities.'"

"_Oui_, zat I was. Zose beetches zrew me out and made my poor muzzar cry."

"Well, I don't think threatening a fellow classmate with the gun would necessarily keep you in there."

"Mm. True."

"You could have transferred to Yardale with me," he said, "you definitely have the brains for it."

"I could not do zat, as I 'ave told you many times before."

Gregory nodded quietly, not wanting to argue with Christophe about that topic anymore.

"So did you like my valedictorian's speech, then?" He asked, nuzzling deeper into Christophe's shoulder.

"_Oui_, eet was beautiful," Christophe said without taking his eyes off the road, "not a dry eye in ze 'ouse."

Gregory beamed gallantly.

"I only said what was required and then dressed it up a little."

"But still," he trailed, "eet was nice."

Gregory smiled again and fell back onto Christophe's shoulder, closing his eyes.

"I'm just glad today's over," he yawned, "I'm so exhausted."

"Non, eet's not over yet," Christophe said as he turned the corner to Gregory's house, "I 'ave a surprise for you een your bedroom."

Gregory shot up from his reclined position on the Frenchman's shoulder.

"Oh?" He inquired.

But Christophe said nothing else. Then Gregory grew a little nervous. Christophe's "surprises" usually involved something bloody and grotesque. He reminded the Brit of a cat who would bring torn up birds into the house in hopes of pleasing his master. But Gregory was never pleased.

Gregory entered his home, relieved that nothing smelled remotely of rotting flesh.

"_Venez avec moi_," Christophe took Gregory's hand, "upstairs."

He followed him willingly; he couldn't refuse when he spoke in French like that. As much as he hated to admit it, it charmed him.

Christophe pushed the door open slowly, motioning for his lover to enter the room first. It was dark, and Gregory knew it. Mind, Gregory had a large-sized room to match the largeness of his house, so he didn't see it right away. Then his eyes caught sight of a little bit of light emanating forth. The light was coming from two tall red slender candles sitting atop a small table, and then everything became visible.

"Oh…my…"

The dark, cherry wood table was small, but not too small. It was just about the size to accommodate two. It had on it two fragile-looking wine glasses, which Gregory recognized as coming from the basement of his home; his mother kept them there and took them out only for special occasions. On the center of the table was a really old wine bottle. The glass was blurry and dusty and the cork had darkened with age. The label on the bottle was ancient and was beginning to peel off. The words were blurry due to age, but Gregory recognized a few words to be in French.

"You like eet?" Christophe said out of the silence.

"You…did this all yourself?"

"Oui. My graduation present to you."

Gregory flushed. He hadn't been expecting Christophe to do anything for him and this, well, this was over the top of his usual standards. It must have taken him hours to make everything so elegant and clean and just perfect. But although the redness of the candles was reflecting throughout the room, Gregory's blush could not be concealed from the mercenary. At once, Christophe wrapped one arm around the slender one's waist and ran his other hand through his golden hair, pulling him close.

"Congratulations, _mon chéri,_" he purred charmingly before closing the gap between their lips.

XX

Hehe, I made Gregory dress like Alexander Rybak…Euro readers probably know who I'm talking about =P MY GOD HE IS SUCH A DREAM!! I wanna play like him but I'm too overprotective of my violin…he's so rough with his, it's a wonder he hasn't killed it yet.


End file.
